


The Boss 12

by LanceTheFuckerTucker



Series: The Boss [12]
Category: Bucky Barnes - Fandom, The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: 70's Bucky strip club AU, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-17
Updated: 2017-02-17
Packaged: 2018-09-25 05:08:49
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,842
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9803924
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LanceTheFuckerTucker/pseuds/LanceTheFuckerTucker
Summary: You're slowly adjusting to life on the run when someone from your past shows up unexpectedly.





	

Bucky woke up in a haze with Peggy and Stevie at his bedside. The first thing he did was ask where you were. 

“ _The kid shot Stark,_ ” Stevie explained.

Bucky smiled proudly. “ _I’ll have to congratulate her when she gets back. Where did you say she was?_ ” he pressed.

Stevie and Peggy looked at each other, silently fighting over who had the bad luck to tell Bucky what happened next. Despite the drugs coursing through his system, Bucky was lucid enough to notice the pair’s exchange. “ _Where the fuck is she?_ ” he asked through gritted teeth. “ _Did you let the feds get her?_ ”

“ _She’s gone, Bucky. It was for the best,_ ” Peggy piped up.

“ _The best?_ ” Bucky asked. The monitor beside him indicated his blood pressure was steadily rising. “W _hat the hell?_ ”

“ _She killed Stark on the roof. I guarantee there were witnesses, Buck. She was covered in blood when she came back down, really making a scene right out there. I gave her money, left her at the airport,_ ” Stevie reasoned. 

Bucky swallowed hard at the news that you were gone. Then he barked, his voice hoarse: “ _Get the fuck outta my sight, both of you!_ ”

* * *

Los Angeles was everything you hoped it would be when you first stepped off the plane, still dazed. It was a new start. A clean slate. You found a job, within days of your arrival, working at a cramped and dingy record store that you knew Bucky would have loved. Between the money Bucky slipped you and the rolls of notes Stevie forced upon you in the airport, you were able to afford an apartment. It was poky, the walk to work took longer than you would have liked and damp creeped up one of the walls in the bathroom, but it was yours. The weather was glorious. The people were laid back. The city was the polar opposite of where you grew up. Back home, everyone had somewhere to be. The streets were like a giant pressure cooker come rush hour. But it was hard to be anxious about anything here. That’s not to say your mind didn’t do its best.

Your past life always seemed to haunt you in one way or another. Particularly at night. Sometimes, visions of Stark’s lifeless body at your feet kept sleep from visiting you. Other times, you found yourself torturously wondering about the people you left behind. How were your parents taking your absence? Did Bucky ever fully recover? How was Angie doing in her classes?

Six months into your exile, you reached out to Angie, figuring that she was the most trustworthy of your former circle. You sent her a letter telling her she could reach you at your current address. That was six months ago. You never heard back. You doubted you ever would.

* * *

 

Bucky started a new life in your absence too. He closed Legs six months after you left. No one knew why. He had spent that time frantically trying to find you to no avail. He packed up his dark green mustang one night and vanished. No one knew where he ended up. 

* * *

 

One thing you hated about Los Angeles were the nights. They were unbearably hot. Being in your apartment only exacerbated the issue, so after work, you always tried your best to draw out your journey back.

The boulevards came alive when the sun hung low in the sky. They bustled with the kind of life you briefly lived during your time at Legs but you liked the city’s blossoming comedy scene the best these days. 

Most nights your mind convinced you that a flash of long, dark hair, or an embroidered denim jacket was Bucky. You always talked yourself down though. You missed him to no end, but you couldn’t think why he would be here. It would have taken all the luck in the world for your paths to cross again. There was no logical explanation, or so you thought.

* * *

 

It was a year from when you first arrived in Los Angeles that you finally cracked. 

You wanted, so desperately to believe, as you made your way through the heart of Saturday night, that it wasn’t him. He walked slowly and easily along the other side of the street, huge billboards advertising all the musicians coming to town as his backdrop. The cars passed by unhurried, offering you stilted, flickering glances of him. He was wearing his signature denim jacket, a cigarette dangling from his lips.

He turned left into an alleyway between two heaving bars. 

Your skin felt icy against the mild air and your feet just wouldn’t move along the sidewalk anymore. You crossed the street and followed him. You only made it two paces down the alleyway before it dawned on you.

It was like you were back home in that familiar setting. You looked up towards the orange horizon, praying to god that this wasn’t some sick mind trick.

There it was, buzzing away at the end of the dark stretch of filth. The unmistakeable pair of pink neon Legs kicking away into the night. 

Your lungs just wouldn't work as you took it in. You turned on your heel and ran home. It wasn’t a dream. You definitely saw it.

You took the same route home on Sunday evening, when the streets were less filled with life. Sure enough, you saw Bucky again. You stopped on your side of the street and watched him walk down the black hole between the bars. You mustered enough nerve to follow him again.

You ran across the street, nearly getting hit by a passing car in your determination to catch up with him. You could see the outline of his figure getting further and further away.

You called into the darkness.

He stopped, his back still turned.

“ _Bucky?_ ” you repeated.

Hearing the familiar voice, he turned around to face you.  You were certain, now, that it was him. He hadn’t changed a bit. You didn’t have to hear his voice or come any closer to know. 

While you wore a look of shock, he was the polar opposite. He looked like he had been caught doing something he shouldn’t have; but he also looked pleased to see you. He shot you the same awkward smile as he always did.

“ _How did you find me?_ ” Bucky asked as you walked towards him. He was frozen in place.

“ _I saw you on my way home from work. I thought I was seeing things, but it’s really you!_ ” you beamed, throwing your arms around him. You were trying your best not to cry but the tears gathered quickly in the corners of your eyes. 

“ _I’ve missed you, kiddo,_ ” he said, his voice low. 

“ _I’ve missed you too, Bucky,_ ” you whimpered. 

Under the neon sign, your reunion played out. 

Then he invited you inside. 

Los Angeles’ very own Legs was exactly like the original with the same red and gold decor. The dancers were just as beautiful as you remembered. The clientele were just as sleazy. There was no Luis, Peggy or Stevie, but everything else was identical. There was even the same dark corridor leading to Bucky’s office, complete with a leopard print carpet. But this time, the corridor was lined with photographs of Bucky’s mother back when she was a dancer and… you. At the very end, there were a collection of photos from your time together in Paris. You looked so young and carefree. A pang of sorrow ripped through your body as you remembered all of the good times. Right when your initial tears had stalled, this was the punch in the gut you needed to get them flowing again.

Inside his office, there were more photographs of you. You were everywhere. He hadn’t forgotten you all that time you were separated.

You sat down in one of the chairs opposite his desk, fearing your legs would give way if you stood much longer. 

Bucky poured you some whisky and brought it over to you, then he settled behind his desk. The same old, shiny mahogany.

Neither of you were sure how to have this conversation. You began uneasily. “ _How did you find yourself out here? I mean, we would have needed all the luck in the world to have found each other again. I don’t think that this was a coincidence._ ”

Bucky tilted his head and smiled at you for a moment. “ _After I got back on my feet, I tried everything to find you. It took me six months. I even asked your parents, they knew nothing. I figured you didn’t want to be found. Everyone was worried about you, kiddo. But then you wrote to Angie…_ ”

Your mouth opened in realisation. _“Angie gave you my address?_ ”

“ _Yeah,”_ Bucky nodded, now looking at you sheepishly. He knew now that you’d be hurt he didn’t find you sooner. “ _But I figured since you didn’t tell anyone else where you were, and since I put you through so much, you might not have wanted to see me. So I kept my distance. I’ve been making sure no one came for you._ ”

“ _I didn’t know if the whole thing with Stark had blown up, but I was lonely. I could trust Angie not to rat me out. I’m sorry I didn’t get in touch Bucky, I couldn’t risk it,_ ” you babbled until you sobbed.

Bucky got out from behind his desk and kneeled at your feet. He looked up at you, cupping your face in his hands. “ _It’s ok, kiddo,_ ” he reassured, leaning over to kiss your nose.

In that moment, you believed that everything truly was going to be ok.

* * *

 

It took Bucky a week of begging for you to move into his apartment before you cracked. His new place was bigger than his old abode, which you didn’t think was possible. Everything was marble and red, of course. It was lighter than his apartment back home. It reminded you of the hotel lobby in Paris. His record collection had grown substantially. And you couldn’t go into a single room without being three feet away from a photo of you or his mother. It was closer to work and there was no damp in the bathroom. That was, in fact, what sold it to you in the end.

It took a month before he asked you to marry him. He proposed on the beach with the biggest diamond you had ever seen. You protested that it was obscene, but all Bucky did was shake his head and smile. Of course you said yes.

When Bucky wasn’t running the club, he spent his days with you at the record store, dancing among the chaotic stacks of albums. He loved it there. It had nothing to do with the fact that he lived just a block away. 

For the first time in a long long time, Bucky Barnes was happy. 

Los Angeles was everything you hoped it would be, even more so with Bucky by your side.

**Author's Note:**

> Here it is! The final part of The Boss! I have such a hard time completing projects or pieces of work that consist of more than one or two parts so this is a massive personal achievement for me. I couldn't have done this without the incredible people who consistently read, share, give kudos and offer feedback on my work. It kept me going throughout the writing of this series and I truly do appreciate it - thank you! I hope you'll stick with me when I begin writing another series in the next couple of months.
> 
> THANK YOU!


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